


Heard You Howling

by Tony



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, sex that's vaguely alluded to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5674747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tony/pseuds/Tony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Ariadne's birthday, and Arthur blows it off to... Well, blow Eames off. He's a bad friend, but Ari understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heard You Howling

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to tumblr user dragqueeneames, forever and always my Cathy.

If there is one thing Arthur knew about Eames, it was that he is unquestionably amoral. It is oftentimes inconvenient for everyone involved,  _ especially  _ Arthur, who it seems Eames goes out of his way to taunt and tease  _ when _ ever and  _ how _ ever possible. 

_ Why  _ Arthur puts up with it, he isn’t sure, but Eames was fond of coming up with reasons whenever the question came up in conversation.

“Perhaps it’s my winning personality?” he’d tease. And then, with a smile stretched to one side, he’d give another guess. “Or maybe it’s my big cock that you can’t get enough of.”

It wasn’t often that they saw each other, but when they did, they’d have some of the most disgusting, mind-blowing, toe-curling sex Arthur has ever experienced. They weren’t a couple, they were in no sort of relationship, but in the afterglow of each romp, Arthur would always find himself feeling jealous of whoever the last and next person was that’d be in his place.

Of course, that lasted until he was showered and clothed, at which point Eames would start bitching about the smell of Arthur’s cigarettes and Arthur would remember how off-putting Eames’ personality was  _ outside  _ of sex.

An evening in August, Arthur found himself in Le Havre, where Ariadne had invited him for her birthday. It was him and a few of her girlfriends, all out at a club with a mouthful of a name, something Arthur had only glanced at before following Ari in and proceeding to drink one of everything at the bar until he was comfortable enough to make a fool of himself on the dance floor. (This meant a lot of shots, considering Arthur didn’t dance  _ anywhere  _ unless he was too drunk to remember his name.)

Luckily, he didn’t have to pay for most of them. A handsome blond with a cat’s grin and a shirt two sizes too small kept them coming, not a lick of English in his dictionary but that didn’t deter Arthur, who enjoyed the sound of thickly curling French whispered at his ear loud enough  _ just  _ to be heard over the music. His own understanding of the language began to muddle after the fifth shot, as did Arthur’s memory of it being Ariadne’s birthday. He was in the process of being talked into oral sex in the parking lot, an unfamiliar hand tight playing high at his hip, when a very familiar weight pressed itself to his back.

“I never knew you were this easy with  _ everyone _ ,” Eames said at his shoulder, voice loud and affecting a pout. “I thought it was just with  _ me _ , Pet. Frankly, I’m hurt.”

In clearly annoyed French, Arthur’s new friend smiled a little too wide at Eames and told him to fuck off back to his Queen.

Eames snorted, and pulled Arthur back flat against his chest. Not bothering to switch from English, he drawled, “I’m trying, but you’ve got your slimey paw on him.”

Unsure if he should be more annoyed or amused, Arthur laughed dryly. At least he was drunk enough to know who he’d prefer giving a parking lot blowjob to. He gave an apologetic smile and thanked the blond for the drinks in French, and waved at him good-bye. Over his shoulder, he could  **_feel_ ** the smug grin on Eames’ mouth.

Arthur was pulled out onto the dance floor by the Englishman, dragging his feet reluctantly the whole way.

“Don’t look like that Kitten. You know you’re supposed to be here for Ariadne anyway. A bit selfish of you, ignoring her for some French ponce, innit?”

Shaking his head, Arthur stumbled out amidst the grinding, bouncing bodies, and let Eames pull him into a slow dance. He wrinkled his nose and let his head fall on Eames’ shoulder.

“This isn’t the right music. This isn’t slow dancing music,” he slurred at Eames’ jaw, but didn’t fight the slow back-and-forth rocking of their bodies. Eames always had to be different. A little petulantly he added, “Was gonna blow him in the parking lot.”

Eames’ shoulders shook with laughter. “That seems an awfully long ways away. The bathroom is much closer.”

Arthur looked up at him with what was supposed to be a glare, but it came out as more of a conspiratorial smile. Without saying anything, he took hold of Eames’ jacket and pulled him back, back, out of the crowd of dancers and towards the bathrooms, where the line to the bathrooms was ridiculously long. It didn’t stop him, and more than a few voices hissed angrily their way as they cut in, and Arthur made a bee-line for the single stall that was Out of Order. The toilet was pissed in and the floor was sticky, as was the lock, but Arthur would not be deterred. He’d go home smelling like he knelt in piss if need be-- Eames brought out the amorality in him.

“Easy!” laughed Eames as he leaned heavily against the stall door, sighing in appreciation at the sight of Arthur with his tongue poking out between his teeth, on his knees, hands scrabbling drunkenly at Eames’ belt.

As Arthur pulled Eames’ cock out, there was very little thought going on behind the action. But as soon as he got it in his mouth, the first thing he thought was,  _ Yes, this is exactly why I keep you around _ .

Nothing permeated Arthur’s comprehension past the big hand on his head, fingers threading through his hair and tugging just enough to keep Arthur alert and eager. He heard only the blood rushing in his ears, smelled only the sharp, thick odor of Eames’ arousal, saw only the glistening length of Eames’ prick on every out-stroke, the length of it disappearing into the dark thicket of pubic hair tickling Arthur’s nose at every in-stroke.

Eames had been half right earlier. Arthur might have been easy for other men, but no one made Arthur hunger like  _ this _ . No one made Arthur shameless and drooling and sleazy like Eames did.

A hot rush of thick, sour fluid exploded in Arthur’s mouth and he wasn’t expecting it, hadn’t been listening for it, and backpedaled quickly off Eames’ cock before he threw up. He’d gagged, tears springing to his eyes in the process, but he swallowed just as well as he had for every blowjob he gave to Eames since they’d met (a courtesy not afforded to anyone else-- a fact about Arthur Eames would never know). The rest of Eames’ cum dribbled thickly down his shaft, and Arthur greedily lapped it up before sitting back on his legs and swiping his thumb over his mouth.

The look on Eames’ face was better than any compliment Arthur could have ever received, in or outside of sexual encounters.

Arthur stood up, Eames reaching a hand out to help him, and then they kissed, slow and sloppy and affectionate in all the ways Arthur enjoyed but knew he shouldn’t. They kissed until a rough fist pounded on the door, informing them that  _ This is Security and I’m going to have to ask the two of you to leave _ . Eames rolled his eyes and Arthur burst into a fit of giggling, his head too heavy to hold up straight any longer.

They left the bathroom, both of them on the receiving end of several baleful glares and even some envious pouts. The Security guard escorted them to the exit, but not before Ariadne stopped them and asked where they were going. Drunk and apologetic, Arthur pulled her in for a hug and a kiss and slurred, “Happy Birthday, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

She punched him on the arm but it was with a playful grin. “You better!”

The warm night air was a little sobering, but Arthur still preferred to lean his entire weight on Eames, the other man’s arm around his waist as they stepped to the curb and signaled a taxi. Half-asleep on Eames’ shoulder, Arthur suddenly looked up at Eames.

“How did you know I’d be here? Ari didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Eames shrugged. “I told her I wasn’t going to, in case I couldn’t make it. You know I like to keep people wondering.”

Arthur snorted and laid his head back on Eames’ shoulder. “You’re an asshole.”

“Mm,” agreed Eames. A taxi pulled up and Eames let Arthur in. “But you’ve just had my prick in your mouth, what does that make you?”

It took Arthur a moment to answer. He sank down in the seat and let his eyes shut and his brow furrow in thought, until finally he said. “A cocksucker, I guess.”

The sound of Eames’ laughter followed Arthur into a long, pleasant doze, as did the heat of Eames’ hand at his knee. Eames was obnoxious, amoral, and impossible to spend more than five minutes with, but if there was one thing Arthur knew about himself, it’s that he was just as bad.


End file.
